


With Watchful Eyes

by Whitewolf19 (NeverLane)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-02-01 04:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverLane/pseuds/Whitewolf19
Summary: When Merlin falls ill, Arthur and the knights are in a race against time to save him and the whole of Albion. Terrible summary but I'm not sure where I want the story to go yet.
Kudos: 16





	With Watchful Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published work, I hope you enjoy it.  
side note: I'm hopeless with technology so I'm sorry if the formatting of the text is weird. I fought with the computer for a good 15 minutes before giving up.

Arthur would never let anyone know this, but he often watched Merlin. After everyone had retired to bed, he would stare at his gangly manservant from under lidded eyes. Merlin would lie flat on his back, arms crossed, his gaze firmly affixed to the star riddled canopy above. He would do this for hours. Arthur usually fell asleep before he did, or at least he assumed so because he would have no recollection of the man’s eyes closing when he awoke the next morning. For a while, Arthur assumed he just enjoyed the night sky, coming from a small town it made sense. But he would do the same when the group had set up camp deep in the woods, the leaves far too dense to reveal even an ounce of the deep blue that lay beyond. Arthur had witnessed him staring similarly at the rough stone ceiling of caves. However, when Merlin did sleep, he slept like the dead, the angry dead. Most people's faces revert to a state of Innocence in sleep. Arthur cherished it on Guinevere, it even gave him comfort when his battle hardened knights looked like nothing more than children, it reminded him that despite it all, they were still human. Merlin's face however, did not bear this innocence in sleep. He would sleep with his arms still crossed firmly across his chest, flat on his back with his legs stretched across the ground. Occasionally one leg would crook at the knee, but by and large they continued the tense line of body. His mouth would set in a firm line, breathing through his nose.  
When he slept the innocence that normally radiated from him, fled. Merlin was normally a joyous person, he could find the good in any situation or person. It was rare to see him without his signature smirk that would light up his eyes and seemed to brighten even the darkest of surroundings. On occasion, this joy would slip, you would need to know what you were looking for in order to spot these moments, and it just so happened that Arthur did. The young boys usually stellar posture would falter ever so slightly, his shoulders slumping towards the ground, his back curving. His smile would sometimes fade as well but it usually remained unnaturally plastered to his face. His eyes though are what gave him away the most. The glint that was almost always there would disappear, replaced with a sort of cold resignation. Another thing that Arthur would never openly admit is that that glint never ceased to make him happy. From the moment they had met Arthur had seen it, perhaps that’s why he was fairly lenient on the boy. Gwen had also mentioned it, even Gwaine had made note of it in passing when they had been searching for the boy after what Arthur coined "the mace incident". That light however would vanish leaving behind not the shining eyes of an innocent young boy but the cold eyes of an old haggard and harried man who would give Uther and Gaius's a run for their money. Had the boy’s eyes been open when he slept, Arthur assumed those would be the eyes that would greet him.  
Keeping all this in mind it was safe to say that Arthur was suitably stunned after walking back into camp, lacing up his breeches as he did so. He had sent everyone to bed and had strolled into the forest to relieve himself before he intended to turn in as well. He assumed that he would find Merlin still sitting by the fire, staring into it as if nothing else mattered or doing so similarly but laid prostate on the ground, his eyes glued to the sky. He found Merlin in neither of these positions. Instead he found him all but sprawled out across his sleeping mat, his limbs askew, seemingly not able to agree on a direction in which to splay. His mouth was hanging open slightly, but what practically grabbed Arthur by the shirt collar was that the boy looked like just that, a boy. However not a peaceful boy, his face was scrunched up in pain but he was unconscious. A small groan that seemed to grow in volume slightly before petering out again accompanied by a fevered toss of the boy’s limbs jolted Arthur out his shock, sending him reeling to the boy’s side. His knees collided violently with the ground, but he ignored the sharp stab of pain that accompanied said collision. He stilled once again, his hands fluttering over his friend’s lithe frame, unsure of what to do. He was once again shocked into action as another groan, this one much louder, emanated from the boys open mouth.  
Arthur called out desperately to his men, narrowly avoiding a flailing hand as he turned back around. Gwaine was at his side in an instant, worry working its way through every line of the man's face. His other knights soon followed, forming a small circle around the kneeling men. Arthur tossed his gaze desperately around the circle hoping someone would know what to do, or least have an idea because he was currently at a loss. He tore his gaze back to his downed friend when an animal like scream was ripped from his throat. His back arched off the ground, legs kicking out uselessly, his arms outstretched with fingers digging into the soil beneath him as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "We need to get him to Gaius, now" said Arthur, the noise seemed to be all that was needed to kickstart the man back into trained king mode. The men all nodded in agreement rushing off to pack their things and ready the horses, all jobs that would have fallen to Merlin, Arthur shook the thought from his head as he began to inspect the whimpering boy before him. His hands skimmed his body and found nothing external that would explain the boy’s anguish, not that he expected to find anything. If there had been a wound, the boy would either be having much the same reaction but be conscious, or be silent, still and unconscious. The unnatural combination of the two spelled trouble and Arthur knew it. His stomach flipped as another tremor wracked the boy’s body causing him to yell into the sky he so often stared at.

**Author's Note:**

> I was extremely nervous about posting this, so a HUGE thank you for taking the time to read my work. Apologies for what is no doubt terrible grammar, its never been my strong suit. Constructive criticism is always welcome. I'm still not really sure where I want this story to go so if you have any thoughts please let me know.


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